Instincts, I say, instincts:dominoes toppling in the DNA spiralpearly white with spots blackas gun wounds in a 1930’s film.

Whose covetous fingerswhat ghost tore me apartlike a placard confiscated at a rally?I’m learning how (musclescontract when danger fills the air)to learn how to fight back.

In the movie of wrong movesI’ll show off my new skillsblocking even the most deviousenemies who speakin saccharine registersto soften me pussycat-like.

To learn how not to repeatmy last mission thatwound up in the abyss:I jumped from the aircraftyanked and—nothing!Parachute all tangled on my backa bundle of silkrefusing to obeymy master’s voice.

Csongs in quarter notes of rainexplode on the sidewalkmy shoes soakedwith violin clefsbigger with every stepmouthfuls of hymnsin praise of subway neonyelling back, echoingtrains clack and clackswollen city’s throatgives way to a growing sphereon a planet-sized high “C”I fill the day till it bursts

Snezana Zabic currently lives in Chicago, or more precisely in West Humboldt Park. She goes to school at UIC. E-mail her at zxcana@yahoo.com